


Two Day's Grace

by Hours_Gone_By



Series: Trope Bingo Round Twelve [4]
Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Classic Film Reference(s), Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Holodecks/Holosuites, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Gestures, Spark Sexual Interfacing, Transformers Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing, Trope Bingo Round 12, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 13:53:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17623613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hours_Gone_By/pseuds/Hours_Gone_By
Summary: Jazz surprises Prowl with a brief vacation.





	Two Day's Grace

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Written for [Trope Bingo](https://trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org) [Round 12](https://trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org/tag/round+twelve). Prompt: Fluff

Jazz pounced on Prowl the moment the tactician came through the door of their shared quarters. Prowl reset his optics in surprise even as he let himself be pounced upon.

“Hello to you, too, darling,” Prowl said with light amusement, catching Jazz’s waist between his hands. “What’s this for?” Jazz was always happy to see Prowl and vice versa, but Prowl could think of no apparent reason for this degree of exuberance.

“Does it gotta be for something?” Jazz did his best to look innocent – too innocent, as Prowl knew well.

“I recognize that look,” Prowl informed him. “What have you been up to?”

“Oh, not much. Just made some plans for us, Prowler. We’re gonna go on vacation,” Jazz announced, grinning.

“How and where?” Prowl asked, even as he split off a half-dozen processing threads to work out ways they could manage it. It was an attractive thought, certainly. “I can’t just spontaneously take time off and neither can you. In fact, I’ve calculated a ninety-three-point-five-five-eight percent chance that the Decepticons will execute their next raid within two days. That’s hardly enough time for any kind of vacation, especially since I’d have to brief Smokescreen on – “ He broke off at the broadening grin on his lover’s face. “You’ve already got it figured out, I see.”

“I sure have, baby.” Jazz grabbed Prowl’s hand. “Come on.”

Intrigued, Prowl not only went, but he also suffered himself to be called ‘baby.’ “Very well.”

Prowl allowed Jazz to pull him back through the door and into the halls. He glanced down in surprise as they headed down the hallway toward the centre of the _Ark_ ; Jazz had kept hold of his hand, walking along with him as if, well, they were a couple on vacation in peacetime. Their relationship wasn’t a secret among the Autobots, but they rarely showed affection in public, the habit a holdover from an era of stricter regulations on romantic relationships between officers. Prowl was also much more reserved, especially in public, than his partner and Jazz respected that. There was also the issue, now, of keeping their relationship private from the humans, though that was not a problem here in the _Ark_ ’s private quarters, where humans were not permitted.

Humans were also not permitted into some of the recreational areas of the _Ark_ , where they were headed now. The ‘no humans in ‘X’ rec areas’ rule was in place whether the areas in question were safe for use by Autobots or not. Many of the games Cybertronians played to relax held the genuine threat of severe bodily harm or even death for the comparatively fragile organics. A lob ball in the wrong place at the wrong time, for example, would not leave much behind. Prowl didn’t like having their human friends in danger, tried to minimize their involvement in the more dangerous aspects of associating with the Autobots, but they could be…persistent.

Prowl wasn’t sure where they were going. Jazz was taking them deeper into the ship than Prowl usually ventured these days, into an area where repairs had recently been completed. Prowl had signed off on the work orders for the holomatter arena more for its usefulness in running tactical and training scenarios than its entertainment value. Still, he knew to which use Jazz would put it – and, it appeared, already had. There was a program running in the arena, explaining why Jazz hadn’t worried about the logistics of the two of them leaving on vacation. Jazz might be cheerful and easygoing, but he was also brilliant and nearly as good at logistics as Prowl. That tended to get overlooked by others, but Prowl knew Jazz’s mind and processor as well as he knew his own. Jazz hadn’t reached his rank and position through luck. He’d acquired it solidly through merit.

“Optics off,” Jazz ordered, bringing them to a halt. “I know you already figured out what we’re doing, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still surprise you.”

Prowl indulged his lover, as he usually did. “As you like, Jazz.”

Prowl felt Jazz take his other hand and draw him forward. The air inside the arena was slightly warmer than the hallway had been. Prowl could hear the soft sound of waves and a light, artificial, breeze brushed over him. Prowl could think of a dozen places this could be and wondered which one it was, whether it was on Cybertron or Earth. There was a higher probability it was Earth, merely given the significant differences in the number of large bodies of liquid between the two.

Prowl wondered if it might be Australia. He’d wanted to visit Australia since shortly after they’d awoken on Earth and Hound had shown him a documentary about it. The continent had a beauty and uniqueness that appealed to him on a level he’d never analyzed. A lesson learned from Jazz: sometimes it was alright merely to want something without understanding all levels of the reasoning behind it.

While Prowl was considering, Jazz let his hands go. The saboteur kept his fingers on one of the tactician’s wrists as he circled him, breaking the touch only briefly to slide his arms around Prowl’s waist from behind. Absently, Prowl tipped a door back into kissing distance; Jazz rocked sideways a little and did so.

“Optics on, love,” Jazz said softly, hugging Prowl back against him.

Curious, Prowl obeyed and beheld their vacation spot.

They were, especially to visual sensors, standing on the edge of the Mithril Sea, the light of the setting sun blazing gold over the sea’s shining surface. Black sand gleamed below their feet, the projection realistic to the point grains clung to them just as the lightly magnetic sands of the real Sea would have done. Silvery waves broke softly against the shoreline.

“Jazz,” Prowl breathed. “It’s beautiful.”

“I remembered you said once you’d never been but always wanted to.” Jazz hugged Prowl just a little closer. “I got us a whole two days in here, and we’re powered by the volcano so no worries about that. If the Decepticons do try their raid, Smokescreen and Mirage are all set to stand in for us. If they can’t do our jobs by now, we’ve been doing something wrong all this time. I got energon, and one of the best beds holomatter can project for us in here, too, and we can walk a fair way ‘along the beach before the projection loops us back. I know it ain’t the same as the real thing, but it’s as close as I can get you any time soon. You like it?”

Prowl pulled free just far enough he could turn around and face his lover. He put his arms around Jazz’s neck, smiling.

“It’s perfect, my darling,” Prowl said, gazing at his long-time lover with open affection and admiration. “Just the vacation I needed. Thank you.”

“You’re real welcome, lover,” Jazz responded, and smiled back at him, hands sliding up Prowl’s back. “Let me show you to the hab, and you can thank me properly, yeah?”

Prowl raised an optic ridge at him. “Why bother with the hab? We are alone, aren’t we?”

Jazz’s visor brightened, and his hands found Prowl’s doors’ hinges, caressed them suggestively. “Our own personal ’ _From Here to Eternity’_ homage, huh? I can get down with that.”

Prowl had no idea what Jazz was talking about and said so.

Jazz’s visor shaded darker with desire, and his smile turned seductive – not, admittedly, that he’d ever had to _try_ to seduce Prowl. The visor and the smile were really all it had taken. “C’mere and I’ll show you.”

Prowl smiled back and went eagerly.

* * *

The projected sunset was far more brilliant than any real sunset Prowl had ever seen on Cybertron, and he said so. He was sitting next to Jazz on the deck of the hab the other mech had conjured up – apparently a scaled-down version of one owned by a friend of Mirage – as they fueled.

“Yeah,” Jazz agreed. “It’s one of Earth’s that Hound recorded not long after we came out of stasis. Used to get some of them like this in places like Kaon, Staniz…anywhere the pollution put lots of particulate in the atmo. I put the time in here on Earth time too, since that’s what we’re used to these days. Makes for a short vacation, but…”

“Two mega-cycles would be a bit much to ask Prime to spare us for these days,” Prowl agreed. Especially Jazz, who interacted with Earth governments and other human organizations reasonably frequently. Two mega-cycles, Cybertronian days, came to just over a full Earth week, a reasonably significant amount of time for the shorter-lived humans.

Jazz nudged Prowl with his elbow. “Hey now. No work talk, you dig?”

Prowl smiled. “I dig. What should we talk about instead?”

“If we could get another couple of days off _and_ we didn’t have to worry ‘bout Decepticons, where would you like to go?” Jazz set his cube aside and leaned back on his elbows, looking up at the stars. Prowl recognized the starfield as Cybertron’s but not the specific era to which it belonged.

“I would like to go to Australia.”

“Australia, huh?” Jazz said thoughtfully. “Don’t think I’ve ever been to Australia.”

“You haven’t.” Prowl knew the details of every single one of Jazz’s missions, of course. Prowl knew the details of all the missions. “There have been no Autobot missions in Australia requiring your presence.”

“Huh. It’d be nice to go visit somewhere just to visit, not to fight.” Jazz lay back, hands behind his head, and looked up at the stars. “Especially somewhere I haven’t been _to_ fight.”

“Yes,” Prowl agreed. He set his fuel aside and lay back with Jazz, angling one of his doors to avoid accidentally striking the other mech. “If we could, if there were no duties required of us, how long would you stay on vacation?”

“Dunno. I’ve always worked,” Jazz said, “always had to work, ever since I was sparked. I mean, it was music, and I worked with my mentor, so it was more fun than anything but still.”

“The same,” Prowl said. “I had a supervisor, not a mentor of course, but still.”

They had both been sparked as adults, their personality matrices fully developed and all the knowledge, if not the experience, they would need to function in society uploaded to them. Jazz had had a mentor, his spark requested by a mech who wanted someone to teach and who would assist them in their profession, or even take over for them. Prowl had been brought online fully adult as part of a group of mecha built by a factory for a specific purpose: law enforcement for the city-state of Praxus. Instead of a one-on-one relationship with a mentor, as Jazz had experienced, Prowl and his batch-mates had been given advanced social interaction programming and overseen by a barracks supervisor for a stellar-cycle. To the best of his knowledge, Prowl was the only remaining member of that group, his batch-mates having been deactivated in the line of duty, when Praxus fell, or in action.

“Could always start with Australia,” Jazz continued. “I hear there’s a big jazz festival coming up in Melbourne next year. Be cool to check that out. While we’re waiting to see if we can swing that,” he brought a hand out from behind his head to take Prowl’s, “maybe I can’t get you to Australia, but how about I give you Australia’s sky?”

Jazz connected remotely to the theatre’s operating system and ran a search. Hound and Perceptor had catalogued multiple views of Earth’s night skies, and Jazz picked one as seen from rural Australia. New stars and constellations arranged themselves in the velvety black sky.

“There,” Jazz said, satisfied. “Think that’ll hold you over till we can get to the real thing?”

Prowl smiled up at the new sky and gave Jazz’s hand a loving squeeze. “Thank you, my love.”

“Anything for you, Prowler.”

* * *

For the final day of their vacation, they changed from the beach program to one of the luxury racetracks of Crystal City. Prowl was sure that program belonged to Mirage, though there was a not insignificant chance it belonged to Tracks instead. The illusion of size was harder to maintain when you were racing around a relatively small area pretending to be a much larger space. Still, once Prowl convinced himself to ignore it rather than analyze it the races became much more fun – and he increased his chances of winning, managing to do so twice.

Jazz won the last one and flipped out of alt in a dramatic transformation as he crossed the finish line, pirouetting mid-transformation to face Prowl and give his lover an elaborate bow as he completed the spin.

While Jazz’s head was down, Prowl transformed as well, taking his turn to pounce. Jazz was expecting him, caught him, spun Prowl gently down on his back, the former Enforcer’s doors spreading along the ground like wings.

“Gotcha!” Jazz grinned down at him from his place astride Prowl’s hips. “Now what am I gonna do with you?”

Prowl grinned back, running hot and a mild charge already thrumming in his systems from the thrill of the chase. “You won. I suppose that means you can do whatever you like with me?”

Jazz dragged his fingers along sensitive seams in Prowl’s armour, ones he knew well, looking thoughtful. “S’pose that means I’ve got to decide then.”

Prowl raised an optic ridge. “On what to do?” He skimmed his palms up Jazz’s thighs.

“Nope.” Jazz traced the shape of Prowl’s headlights, his visor dark with lust. “What order I’m gonna do them in.”

“Alphabetical?” Prowl suggested teasingly.

Jazz huffed a laugh. “Alphabetical. C’mere and I’ll give you alphabetical all right…”

Prowl pushed himself up with one arm, pulled Jazz down with the other hand, and claimed a kiss.

“Hey, that don’t start with ‘a,’” Jazz mock-protested. “Whose alphabet are you using?”

“Mine.” Prowl skimmed his fingers down Jazz’s back, tracing the roof of his alt mode, coming back up to follow the edge of the windshield where clear plasteel met metal plating. “It’s very logical and ordered exactly the way I think it should be.”

“Mmm.” Jazz’s optics dimmed in enjoyment. He and Prowl were more than familiar with each other’s structures by now but touching each other, rousing each other, never got stale. Learning a new lover’s body for the first time was inherently exciting, knowing a long-term lover’s deeply intimate. “Where exactly does ‘Jazz’ fall in this fancy new alphabet of yours, huh?”

“Oh, no place specific.” Prowl stroked a couple of seams around Jazz’s hips, ones that never failed to help coax his ports open. “There are quite a few synonyms though.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

Prowl teased the port covers on Jazz’s hips open. “Connect with me, and I’ll show you.”

“Don’t gotta ask twice, lover.”

Jazz and Prowl had been together so long that permissions were granted almost automatically when they jacked into each other.

“Ah,” Prowl groaned, the network connecting and opening them up to each other. “Good…”

“Want more of me?”

Prowl touched the port covers on Jazz’s thighs then ran his fingers from Jazz’s wrists to his arm ports, over to the ones on his chest. “I want all of you.”

Jazz opened all his ports for Prowl. “You can have me.”

They went slowly, jacking into each other one port at a time, bandwidth increasing with each new connection. Permitting, creating, and testing each one took kliks until at last Prowl accepted the connection request that came on the heels of Jazz’s final jack plugging into Prowl’s last port. Prowl’s back arched in pleasure as he was opened fully to his lover and his lover to him. No firewalls, no barriers, no limitations.

 _Jazz_ , he thought, and, at this level of interface, it was not just the word but everything his beloved counterpart meant to him. _Jazz_.

 _Prowl_ came the response, again not merely a designation but an entire concept and deeply intimate meaning. The thought carried a wish to know Prowl’s spark, not a fully developed idea yet, but there.

Prowl wanted that too. He reached for the commands to open his chest plates and spark chamber but did not trigger them. Instead, he transferred control of those commands to Jazz, leaving himself completely and utterly vulnerable to his love.

 _Prowl!_ Jazz had been gifted this by his lover before, but he was touched by it, sent beyond words every time. Words weren’t necessary during a spark merge, though. _Love you so much. Going to show you._

Jazz opened their chest plates and spark chambers and spent a moment letting his admiration of Prowl’s spark fill the network between them. Prowl moaned in anticipation, wrapping his lover close as Jazz brought their sparks together.

Prowl was inundated with his lover, filled, surrounded, pleasure and love and desire flowing between them in a loop. Jazz buried his face against Prowl’s throat, overloading. The surge fed back through their network and Prowl arched and cried out with his own climax.

Prowl surfaced from his soft reboot still spark-merged and networked with his lover, soft waves of love and pleasure rocking back and forth between himself and Jazz. He nuzzled Jazz’s cheek until the other mech kissed him tenderly. Prowl sighed happily, and they lay there, spark to spark, sharing soft kisses until a second, smaller, overload washed through them both.

Even after the merge had ended and their spark chambers closed, they kept their chest plates open, letting them stay flush together as they held each other.

“Gonna have to go soon,” Jazz said regretfully all too soon and pressed a kiss to Prowl’s shoulder. “Vacation time’s almost over.”

Prowl hummed agreement, rubbing his thumbs over Jazz’s hips, where his speakers resided. “Thank you again for this, Jazz.”

Jazz kissed him. “Thanks for agreeing to it. Best two days I’ve had in a long time.”

Prowl chuckled “As if you couldn’t talk me into anything if you really wanted to.”

“Well, yeah.” Jazz reluctantly stood up and helped Prowl to his feet. “I try not to overdo it though. Gotta use my powers for good and all.”

Prowl closed his chest plates, as did Jazz, the minor transformation routine returning their superstructures to their default state.

“Thirty nano-klik warning,” Jazz said apologetically, apparently having set an internal alarm. “Want to watch the program close, or…?”

“No,” Prowl said and took Jazz’s hand. “We can leave it to shut down on its own. As if we were leaving the real location. It will make it feel more like we can come back.”

Jazz smiled. “Like the way you think, Prowler. Alright, let’s go.”

Prowl kissed Jazz’s fingers. “Let’s go for now, you mean.”

“Yeah,” Jazz agreed. “For now.”

The doors opened, and they went back to the real world.

**Author's Note:**

> There are many types of black sand, including heavy mineral sand that is most commonly made of magnetite, garnet, and epidote. Black sands also tend to have a high iron content. [Source: Sand Atlas](https://www.sandatlas.org/what-is-black-sand/).
> 
> Even if you don’t recognize the film title, you may recognize [the famous beach scene](https://youtu.be/EHYd9DRhh-c) Jazz is referencing here. 
> 
> One mega-cycle = 93 hours. So (93*2)/24 = 7.75 days
> 
> Prowl is referencing [stellar drift](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stellar_drift), a real phenomenon where stars move over time.
> 
> Researching music festivals in Australia specifically for a Transformers fanfic, I was amused to find there was one called [Soundwave](https://soundwavefestival.com/) that ran between [2007 and 2015](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Soundwave_\(Australian_music_festival\)). The website hasn’t been updated since 2011. The [Melbourne International Jazz Festival](http://www.melbournejazz.com) [was first held in 1998](http://www.melbournejazz.com/about-us/history/). The fic takes place sometime in 1997.


End file.
